


ABCs of Sex

by trickydoll



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: I'll add more tags later, Kinks, M/M, lots of smut, thats it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickydoll/pseuds/trickydoll
Summary: 26 smut oneshots where Pete and Patrick get it on in all kinds of ways. That's it.





	ABCs of Sex

**Author's Note:**

> hi again  
> so my twitter friend so inspired me to pick this idea up again after like a year of thinking about doing it  
> it's not original i just like to write smut  
> enjoy, kinksters.
> 
>  
> 
> also obviously these are real people but this is fictional and i do not claim it to have ever happen or to ever happen *finger guns*
> 
> \+ this hasnt been read over or beta'd, so pls excuse my mistakes

****

“I read something interesting online earlier today.”

 

Patrick looks up from his laptop over to Pete, who is staring back with a glint in his eye. That sentence and that look both intrigue and terrify him. “Okay...and that is?”

 

Pete’s eyes dart away for a moment, lazily looking around before returning to Patrick, the determination in them faltering, “Asphyxiation intensifies an orgasm. Like, a lot.” 

 

Okay, so, that isn’t what Patrick was expecting at all. He didn’t know what he was expecting in the first place, but it definitely wasn’t  _ that. _ He blinks, wide eyed, and can’t find the words to say in response. Not that it matters, because Pete is speaking up again and moving to sit next to him.

 

“I want to try it. On you. If you trust me…” 

 

Patrick tenses up. Pete is asking to choke him to, so to speak,  _ intensify his orgasm _ . He won’t lie and say he’s never heard that rumor or of the whole fixation around someone choking you during sex, but it’s never been something he’s thought to try or something that’s been presented to him. His fingers drum idly against his laptop, and he purses his lips. The idea doesn’t sound like the most horrible thing to be suggested, and he definitely trusts Pete, so it doesn’t scare him either. 

 

Overall, it really just bubbles down to  _ don’t knock it til you try it  _ in Patrick’s brain.

 

“Uh,” he finally speaks up, “sure? Why the hell not.”

 

\--

 

They don’t discuss when this whole thing is supposed to go down. In fact, they don’t even bring it up to each other after that night, and that was two weeks ago. After Patrick had agreed, Pete had just smiled, thanked him with a kiss to the temple, and wandered back off. 

 

Maybe Pete had forgotten about, but Patrick sure hadn’t. He’d looked into himself; the dangers and how to stay safe, but also the advantages of it all. He’d read stories from people who participated in it regularly, and they were…  _ detailed, _ to say the least. 

 

Patrick finds himself frustrated with this whole thing, because while Pete is the one who brought it up, he’s the one who can’t get it out of his head. He’s so close to grabbing Pete by the collar and telling him he better get on with this whole idea before he loses his damn mind with curiosity.

 

He doesn’t, though, because he has to hold onto his dignity somehow. 

 

Then, one day after Pete has kissed him goodbye to go off and meetup with friends, Patrick breaks. He scampers off to their room, flopping down onto the bed and hastily undoing his too-tight jeans. He wriggles out of them, kicking them into the floor, shoving his hand into his boxer-briefs without another moment of hesitation.

 

His fingers curl around his slowly hardening cock, and his head tilts back into the pillow with a soft sigh. His teeth sink into his lip as he moves his hand upwards, thumb darting across the head of his dick, and it isn’t long before he’s completely hard. He writhes against the comforters, whimpering and moaning as he works himself with his hand. 

 

He thrusts up into his fist with a whine, the familiar heat of an impending orgasm curling in the pit of his stomach. He takes a deep breath, and holds it. He jerks himself off with newfound fervor, unable to make a sound as he holds his breath. Tears begin to prickle the corners of his eyes, and his chest aches with the need to breathe, but his senses are on fire. The drag of his hand across his dick is making jolts of pleasure shoot up his spine, replacing the deep seated burn of the oxygen deprivation. A strangled noise rumbles in the back of his throat. He presses his thumb into the head of his cock again, and it all becomes too much. 

 

Patrick arches off the bed and into his hand, coming across his clothed stomach and finally opening his mouth to gasp in the much needed air. He has tears streaks down his red face, and he’s still whimpering as his whole body trembles with aftershocks of possibly one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

 

_ Intense. _

 

He sits up quickly, blushing down to his chest upon the realization that he just jerked off like a desperate teenager whilst depriving himself of air, and enjoyed every fucking moment of it. Actually came harder than he ever has while just jerking off. He hides his face in his clean hand and sighs. 

 

Fuck, he really needs to talk to Pete about that idea of his. 

 

\--

 

Pete comes home that late that night. He’s humming to himself in the kitchen, and Patrick thinks it’s safe to assume he had a good time. All Patrick had been able to do the entire time he was gone was lay in bed, naked from the waist down, and mull over his newfound asphyxiation kink.

 

He'd managed to get off another time, holding his breath longer this time and even reaching up to press against his throat. The burn alongside the weight of his hand was enough to make him come within three minutes and see stars for twenty. 

 

Patrick throws the blanket off himself, stepping into a pair of sweatpants before stumbling his way downstairs. His whole body still felt satiated and like jelly. He sees Pete making himself what appears to be a sandwich, and he slides up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. He presses his cheek to his back, and feels the vibration of his boyfriend’s words, “Hey you. Tired?”

 

Patrick only lets out a small, happy sigh in reply. Pete turns around in his arms, his own wrapping around his neck before he leans in to give him a soft kiss. They smile lazily at each other, and Patrick let's him go so he can finish making his food. 

 

He follows behind the other as he wanders into the living room, and curls up next to him on the couch to watch TV with him. He waits patiently for Pete to finish his sandwich and toss an arm around him before he speaks up, “So, you know that thing you mentioned to me a few weeks ago?”

 

“Gonna have to be more specific, babe,” Pete mumbles with a kiss to Patrick's temple. 

 

“Um…” Patrick looks away from his scrutinizing gaze with a blush, “The choking thing?”

 

“Oh.” Pete tilts his head, “Yes, I do. Did you change your mind?”

 

“No!” Patrick blurts too quickly and loudly, his face darkening to an unhealthy red, “No, actually, I was wondering if… if we could do that? Soon?”

 

The blonde swallows hard when Pete's eyes darken, and his arm slips down to his waist, “You're into it now?”

 

“Yeah,” he whispers back, “I got off twice today doing it to myself.”

 

“Fuck, Patrick, seriously? That’s fucking hot. Did you like it? Was it better that way?” 

 

Patrick only nods, his eyes rolling back when Pete dips down to bite into the junction of his shoulder and neck. 

 

“Yeah, we can do that soon. Don't wanna overwhelm you, though, so not tonight.”

 

That makes Patrick whine sadly, but he let's it slide as his boyfriend pushes him back onto the couch and crawls over him. 

 

\--

 

The next week is busy for the both of them, but by Friday, Patrick is nearly shaking with need. He has nothing planned today and he knows Pete will be home within the hour, and with the afternoon free for the two of them be alone… 

 

Patrick shivers. 

 

He busies himself with work around the house, takes a shower, and watches one episode of some god awful drama that was airing before the door unlocks. Patrick shuffles towards it shyly, peering around the corner to see Pete walking in, a drugstore bag in hand, and toeing his shoes off. He grins when he sees Patrick. 

 

“Hi, Tricky,” he coos, sliding down the stretch and around the corner. He envelopes his boyfriend in his arms, kissing his forehead, and Patrick sighs contentedly. 

 

They part, and Pete let's out a little hum as he walks into the kitchen, setting the bag down on the island counter. Patrick stands opposite to him, and eyes the bag curiously. Pete only gives him a smug look, digging his hand into it and brandishing two things that make lightning shoot up Patrick’s spine: brand new lube and condoms. 

 

“I see,” he mutters, looking up at Pete through his lashes. That's all it takes for him to take Patrick by the arm, the box and bottle grasped in his other hand, and dash upstairs. It takes everything in Pete's entire being not to slam Patrick against the door and get off there when the blonde starts mouthing his neck as he fumbles with the doorknob. He manages to wrangle it open, and they stumble inside, Pete tossing the box and bottle onto the bed before crowding Patrick onto it. 

Patrick reaches up to where Pete is hovering, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him down the crash their lips together. Their teeth click with their fervor at first, but they find their rhythm and their lips mold together perfectly, just as they have all the other times before, like two perfect puzzle pieces. Patrick wastes no time darting his tongue across Pete's bottom lip, encouraging him to open up and deepen the kiss. 

 

Pete loves this, really. Kissing Patrick, pushing against his tongue in a never ending battle for dominance, and making him gasp by nibbling and sucking his bottom lip. He chuckles as he softly bites down onto Patrick's lip, pulling back and letting it bounce back into place, making the other let out a soft whine. Patrick's tugs harder on his shirt, and he gives in, slipping it over his head and into the floor. His fingers dance down Patrick's sides, sliding up his own sweatshirt before tugging it off and tossing it away to join his own. 

 

Pete takes a moment to admire to exposed flesh, kissing across the soft stretch of Patrick’s stomach with gentle affection. His boyfriend’s fingers card into his hair, giving a painless tug. A laugh vibrates against his sternum, and Pete wordlessly let's him know he understands he wants  _ more _ . 

 

He reaches down, teasingly undoing the tie on Patrick’s sweats slowly before hooking his fingers into the waistband. There's a small sound of appreciation when he feels no underwear. He tugs them agonizingly slow down every inch of the blonde’s perfect,  _ perfect  _ thighs. He dips down to mouth a hickey to one of them, making Patrick twitch and let out a little noise. They finally make they way off and into the ever growing pile of clothes. 

 

Pete sits back, admiring the display before him. His hands grip the back of Patrick’s legs, tugging him close so that his thighs bracket his hips and his practically sitting in Pete's lap.

 

“Eager, are we?” he whispers, reaching down to ghost his fingers across Patrick’s fully hard and leaking cock. Patrick whines, his body jolting upwards.

 

“It was hard to think about anything else all day.”

 

Pete laughs darkly, and then wraps his hand around Patrick’s cock and tugs upwards. It's a dry pull, and is a little uncomfortable, but it makes Patrick moan and clench his eyes shut anyway. 

 

“Please- I don't wanna mess around- I need you to-”

 

“Shh,” Pete removes his hand, licks his palm, then reaches right back down to continue jerking the other off. He leans down, leaving a smattering of kisses and marks on Patrick’s neck, the vibration of every noise he makes tickling his lips. “We’ll get there, baby.” 

 

Patrick grips onto his boyfriend’s shoulders, thrusting upwards into his hand slowly. He feels as Pete pats around beside his head, and hears very clearly as he snaps open the little container of lube. He removes his hand from his absolutely  _ aching _ cock and is sitting back again to pour the sticky liquid onto his hand. Patrick watches in anticipation as Pete rubs his fingers together to warm the stuff up before he's dropping back down to kiss Patrick breathless. 

 

Patrick is in a daze with Pete’s mouth and Pete’s tongue and  _ Pete _ \- then there's a slick finger pressing to his entrance, and he shines loudly into his boyfriend's mouth as it slides in knuckle deep. He's not new to this, so it only takes two pumps from one finger before a second one slides in, and Pete is scissoring them, stretching Patrick open deliciously. Patrick has to turn his head to the side and moan, Pete pressing kisses to the side of his head while Patrick rocks down in time with the quick movements of his fingers.

 

Pete wiggles in a third one, and Patrick knocks his head back to allow the other to dive in for another chance to mark his perfectly pale neck. 

 

Pete gets really into fingering Patrick-  _ really _ into it. He likes the way he can unravel his boyfriend with only three fingers, likes to watch Patrick move his hips in a downward roll that he's always been so good at, likes how Patrick let's out soft moans and tiny sighs. He pulls out, adjusts the angle of his fingers with an expert memory of everything Patrick, then jams them right back in. 

 

When Patrick arches up and nearly screams, he knows he's hit the nail on the head again as usual.

 

Or, well. The fingertip on the prostate, he supposes.

 

“Pete-  _ please!  _ I am seriously going to come from  _ this _ if you-” The whole things trails off into a garble of words as Pete continues his brutal pace of fucking into the sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. Patrick’s grip on his arms tighten, and his whole body is trembling with simulation, and Pete can feel as he clenches around his fingers- then he pulls out suddenly and abruptly. Patrick let's out a sound of shock and disappointment, but then sighs in relief when Pete reaches for the condoms. 

 

Pete wastes no more time before he's ripping the box open with minimal struggle, ripping one of the condoms of the roll, and tossing the box to the side to be located again later. He drops the condom onto his boyfriend's heaving chest, and shifts away from him. He pops the button on his jeans, drags down the zipper, and shoves them and his boxers both down his hips as quickly as he can. He doesn't move to take them off completely, just lets them hang low so he can free his cock- blood red and curved right up against his stomach. 

 

He uses his lube slick hand to grip himself, stroking up and down twice with a groan. 

 

Patrick tightens his legs around him, trying to pull him close weakly, “I would blow you right now if I didn't need you to fuck me so bad.” 

 

Pete laughs genuinely at that, and scoots forward again. He takes the condom from where it lies on Patrick’s chest, ripping the foil open with his teeth and rolling the condom onto his sensitive dick with a hiss. He takes the lube in hand again, pouring another liberal amount into his palm to slick himself up with tantalizingly slow strokes. 

 

“So,” Pete gasps out on the upstroke, “Are we still following through with the whole…choking thing?”

 

“Please,” Patrick mutters, reaching down to replace Pete's hand with his own for a moment. Pete grits his teeth, pushing his boyfriend's hand away and lifting him up by the hips again. He presses a little kiss to Patrick’s nose as he lines himself up, and pushes in to the hilt with one clean movement. Patrick tenses, letting out a shaky moan, and Pete waits. 

 

It doesn't take long before Patrick is whispering  _ okay _ and Pete is pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward again.

 

They set up a rhythm, not too slow but not too fast while Pete situates the angle of it all. He thrusts forward, Patrick shouts  _ there! _ and then Pete picks up the pace. He fucks the blonde into the, his hands framing the sides of his face, and he watches as Patrick bites his lip, keens out his name, and pushes back to meet every hard thrust. 

Pete truly and honestly doesn't think either of them will last long. 

 

He gets so into it, setting a quick and brutal pace that makes Patrick’s body shift against the sheets, and the lewd sound of his hips meeting his boyfriend's perfect ass ring in his ears. He almost forgets the whole reason they were so desperate to fuck until he feels Patrick's hand wrap around his wrist. 

 

He slows his movements for a moment, and watches as Patrick takes both his hands and guide them to his throat. 

 

_ Oh yeah.  _

 

Pete let's out a muffled groan and stops moving entirely. 

 

“Pete. Please. I'm so, so close.” 

 

So, Pete starts up his pace again, fucking right into Patrick’s prostate, and also pressing down onto his throat. He's as gentle as he can be, nervous that he'll truly hurt his boyfriend. But then Patrick let's out a strangled sound of pleasure, and grips both of Pete's wrists, pulling down and urging him to press harder.

 

Pete nibbles his lip, but complies, pressing down hard enough that Patrick can only manage a pathetic squeak. His boyfriend rocks his hips down to meet Pete’s ever increasing thrusts, and his eyes close tightly. His face slowly turns red, and his mouth is hung open in a silent sound, and when tears begin to pour down his cheeks, Pete feels the anxiety. 

 

But Patrick hasn't let him go, and by the way his whole body is trembling, Pete can only assume he's loving every second of this. 

 

Pete speeds up his thrusts as he feels his own release curling in his stomach, and he grunts with every push into the tight heat that is Patrick. He slams forward one more time into Patrick's prostrate, his hands tightening ever so slightly. Patrick’s eyes snap open, and he silently screams, arching up  _ beautifully  _ in a perfect curve, and coming across his stomach and chest. His hands fall limp to his sides. This is when Pete let's go of his throat, fucking up into him until he moans Patrick’s name with his own orgasm, and collapses. 

 

Patrick is gasping for air violently, the color returning to his face, but the tears continuing to drip down onto the bed. Pete pulls out of him, kissing his cheeks, temples, and forehead as he catches his breath. When he knows Patrick is okay and has managed to get his breathing to normal, he moves away to tie the condom off and dispose of it. 

 

Pete wraps his arms around Patrick’s middle, lifting him up and into his lap so he can kiss across his neck. It's red and looks sore, and Pete can only imagine there will be fingerprint bruises to match his hickies later. He soothes his tongue over the redness, and Patrick whimpers. His voice sounds  _ fucked _ and Pete is a little proud. “Be right back, baby,” he murmurs with a chaste kiss to his boyfriend's lips. 

 

Pete let's the blonde down onto the pillows, removes his jeans entirely, tucks himself into his boxers, and wanders off to the bathroom. 

 

Patrick takes this time as he hears Pete turn on the sink tap, to mull over how that was  _ absolutely the most intense, on edge orgasm he's ever had.  _ His throat hurts like all hell, but every sense was on fire. He could hear his brain begging him for air, his lungs feeling like they may explode if he didn't take a breathe- then an entire galaxy had exploded before his eyes and he swore he might black out when his orgasm ripped through his burning body. He shakes all over at the memory, his lungs still aching and his body still swimming on the waves of the aftermath. 

 

Pete returns soon after the water shuts off, and he wipes Patrick down who makes an appreciative little moan. He drops the rag onto their clothes- because he's disgusting, Patrick thinks -and then curls up right behind Patrick. 

 

Patrick wriggles and turns around in his arms. He cups his cheek and pulls him in for a kiss. They lazily move their tongues together, and when they pull away, Pete sighs out, “Thank you, Tricky.”

 

Patrick smirks, and croaks out. “No, thank you.” 

 

Pete knocks his head back in a braying laugh, and then smacks a wet kiss to his boyfriend's nose, “Your throat is absolutely ruined.” 

 

Patrick rolls his eyes, and they settle into a silence before he runs his fingers over Pete's Adam’s apple with a purr, “You know...next time, I want you to be on the receiving end.”

 

Patrick feels as Pete swallows hard, then murmurs. 

  
“Sounds good to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Up next: B is for Bareback


End file.
